


I Carry Your Heart (I Carry it in My Heart)

by kataurah



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: Jaime had always assumed if he shared a soul-bond with anyone, surely it was his twin? A soul-bond was something rare, precious and revered, occasionally something to be hidden, but always protected at all costs. They weren't always accepted or understood, and oftentimes they were destructive, tearing apart families and fragile alliances. Whether it was the truth or not, it was widely thought that Robert and Lyanna had been bonded, for him to have waged a war to get her back. And the rumour at court was that Loras Tyrell had been bonded to Renly; Jaime's only frame of reference for what it must be like to lose the other half of one's soul was the thought of Cersei's death, and he found that unbearable, a pain beyond his comprehension.Until he mether





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, this is a soulate AU. The rules of which are somewhat vague and therefore hard to understand, but I didn't want to lay out the big mystery (that really no one knows how it works) right at the beginning. I'd rather weave in the information to the story. And in the end, maybe (in a world of magic, dragons and the night king of the army of the dead) the logistics of the their soulbond may matter less and less.
> 
> I've tagged this fic as Sense8 AU, in that I've drawn inspiration from how the sensates are able to communicate with each other across thousands of miles purely by sharing an emotional and physical connection. They can also interchange skills and thoughts and sense when one another are in danger. And they are able to "visit": to appear to each other and see their surroundings. Anyway, Ill stop ranting. If you've watched Sense8, you'll get what I mean. If you haven't... get right of that. You need joy after what Thrones did to us.

_i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear)_

 

It wasn't until they were parted - until he'd sent her on her way bearing new armour, a sword she named for him, and what remained of his tarnished honour - that Jaime began to realise what she was to him. 

Perhaps he should have suspected; there was the strange disquiet he'd felt at leaving her behind at Harrenhall that seemed to be something more than guilt niggling at his conscience, and of course the dream that shook him to his core. It had been so vivid, so raw, as though the very roots of who he was were exposed, along with the ghosts of his past, and at the centre of it all was Brienne of Tarth, standing tall, bare, and wielding a flaming sword to match his own.  
  
Upon waking, the pull he felt to go back for her was so strong - as strong as anything he'd ever felt to return to Cersei, if not more so, for this was almost a _physical_ tug beneath his ribs - he could do nothing but obey the compulsion.  
  
But the true nature of their connection never occurred to him then, because Jaime had always assumed if he shared a soul-bond with anyone, surely it was his twin? A soul-bond was something rare, precious and revered, occasionally something to be hidden, but always protected at all costs. They weren't always accepted or understood, and sometimes they were destructive, tearing apart families and fragile alliances. Whether it was the truth or not, it was widely thought that Robert and Lyanna had been bonded, for him to have waged a war to get her back. And the rumour at court was that Loras Tyrell had been bonded to Renly; Jaime's only frame of reference for what it must be like to lose the other half of one's soul was the thought of Cersei's death, and he found that unbearable, a pain beyond his comprehension.  
  
He didn't know at the time, why he told Brienne about Aerys; he didn't know why her judgement bothered him so when it was certainly nothing new to him, or why her stubborn honour and goodness and _strength_ got under his skin and spoke to a part of him he'd thought long buried by bitterness and cynicism. Jaime didn't know... until the moment she named his sword (hers, _theirs_ ) "Oathkeeper," aloud, and her lovely, sapphire blue eyes pierced him to his very soul. He felt it like a knife to the heart and for a moment he couldn't breathe, frozen in their shared gaze, and Brienne looked as stricken as he, as though she was about to cry.  
  
When his lungs decided to function again, they took a deep, tremulous breath simultaneously. She had to leave, they both knew it - she had to fulfil their oath even more than he did - but Gods he suddenly, fervently, wished he could go with her. It wasn't safe for her to remain in King's Landing even if she wanted to. Jaime did not know what words Brienne had exchanged with his sister, but he'd seen the intense, predatory way Cersei's eyes had followed her about the wedding feast, Brienne's expression that of a startled deer.  
  
Jaime's gut reaction, though, again, he could not explain it then, had been fear.  
  
He forced the words past his lips, "Goodbye, Brienne." Her name, that he hadn't used nearly enough but felt so natural on his tongue, and carried with it the weight of significance.  
  
Her frown was anguished; the slightest tremble in her bottom lip made it clear to him that their separation pained her, but she visibly steeled herself and nodded. Perhaps she did not trust herself to speak. Perhaps there was simply too much to say and no words to convey any of it.  
  
She looked back at him as she rode away and again, Jaime felt that tugging sensation behind his ribs, like a cord tying his heart to hers was being pulled tauter with every passing second. It _hurt_ , and he felt the threat of tears sting his eyes, trained on her for as long as she was visible.  
  
Put it all together, everything he'd experienced in regards to her, along with everything he'd ever read or heard about soul-bonds, he knew what it meant, and he'd been a fool to not have seen it sooner.  
  
" _Fuck_ ..." Was the only thing he found he could say, or think. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"  
  
"Got there, have you?" Bronn said at his back, and Jaime spun around to stare at the sellsword incredulously. "Don't give me that. I hate to tell you this, but I know the signs, and it's pretty fucking obvious, if you ask me."  
  
"Was I asking you?" Jaime snapped, feeling exposed and uncomfortable under Bronn's shrewd gaze. "You have no idea -"  
  
"What I'm talking about?" The other man shrugged, "Maybe. Or maybe I'm doing you a favour."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"By pointing out how clear it is to the rest of the bloody world that you and her are bonded." Jaime thought again of the look in Cersei's eyes that had bothered him so much. "Probably for the best then, eh?" Bronn continued, as though reading his thoughts and nodding in the direction Brienne had gone, Podrick ambling along behind her with difficulty.  
  
Bronn's meaning was clear, the rest didn't need to be said: to say that Cersei would be displeased was a vast understatement. Jaime himself couldn't say he was _pleased_ , it would have been so much simpler to have remained ignorant. He didn't _need_ some great, hulking lady knight crashing into his life, upsetting the balance and making him question everything he'd chosen to be indifferent about. He didn't need the Gods - or fuck knows whatever forces were at work deciding these things - telling him that Brienne was _meant_ to be a part of him, that she would make his life better...  
  
That he would _want_ to be better, not just for her but for himself.  
  
_Hells!_ He turned away from Bronn without another word, and angrily stalked back towards the Red Keep, ever-aware of the growing distance between him and his... bonded.  
  
He did not want his "other half", he told himself, he already had that...  
  
... Gods, but he already missed Brienne.   


	2. Chapter 2

_anywhere i go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling_

 

After a while Jaime realised he was never really without her, but that made her physical absence all the worse.   
  
His pulse would quicken and he would grow short of breath when he wasn't even moving; he'd be hit with strong surges of emotion that had no source, no explanation other than they did not belong to him. When he allowed himself to chase these feelings, examine them closer, he experienced the same calm and sense of realignment that came from looking into her eyes. Even if she was sad or worried and he longed to reassure her; in his more thoughtful moments, he wondered if he in fact _could_. If he was able to pick up on Brienne's feelings from what could be hundreds of miles away at this point, could he not "send" her comfort?   
  
He got his answer the day he helped Tyrion escape and his little brother repaid him by murdering their father.   
  
Cersei was raging, unreachable to him in her anger and placing blame upon his shoulders. He could not fault her for that; his own guilt and pain of loss threatened to crush him, churning like acid in his gut, and he collapsed back against the closed door to his chambers in the White Sword tower thinking he would be sick. Yet he still couldn't think of Tyrion without feeling conflicted, and he hated himself for it.   
  
Jaime hated himself for understanding why his little brother had done it. For feeling free of his father's uncompromising control over his life... Self loathing was an old friend, he'd carried it with him since he was barely more than a boy and was told - as a knight and Kingsguard - to ignore Rhaella Targaryen's cries of distress and pain. But now it sat too heavy in his chest, and he was weeping and struggling to breathe...  
  
" _Jaime?_ " A wave of concern and compassion washed over him the same moment he swore he heard her voice speaking his name, _just_ his name, free of labels or titles, as she never had before. Which meant it could not be an echo, a fragment of her drifting up from where she'd taken up residence in his mind. It was _her_.   
  
It felt like being cleansed, the pureness of her like a balm, soothing his soul. Though only for a moment, before he became afraid that he was somehow tainting her in return. The pull he felt towards her though, the comfort she was offering even from a distance, was too tempting to resist, and as Jaime let himself embrace it, he accepted her presence in his mind. He opened up to her.   
  
"Tyrion killed father." He whispered aloud, closing his eyes and feeling slightly stupid, but he didn't know how to do this. He had no idea if Brienne would hear him. "I helped him escape execution and then he..." He choked on a sob trying to tear its way free.   
  
Silence for a moment. He could still feel her, though he could not focus on any particular emotion emanating from her. Then:  
  
" _Oh, Jaime._.." There was no pity, no recrimination in her voice, only a deep sadness that made his chest tighten all the more.   
  
Their connection felt so strong in that moment that behind his closed eyelids, Jaime could see her big, blue eyes, widened in sincere condolence. It was a strange duel sensation of being in his own mind, his own body, and Brienne's at the same time. He saw himself through her eyes, and he was not a wretched and disgusting monster. He was a man grieving. A man capable of great strength and honour. She did not excuse his past crimes, but she did believe he could redeem himself, that he already was.   
  
" _You believed him innocent,"_ She said earnestly, " _You were trying to do the right thing."_ __  
  
"And look what happened," He replied to his empty room. "Look what comes of doing the right thing. It seems I'm damned either way."   
  
" _No!"_ The single word reverberated through him. " _Don't say that_." Jaime felt a gust of wind that was too cold to have come from his window in King's Landing, the smell of rain in the air and falling on woodland around him, the distant rush of river rapids: Brienne must have been in the Riverlands. _"I know_..." She paused, trying to find the words, " _You think that honour is dead in this world. That no one gets anywhere by trying to be good -"_ __  
  
"But I met you," Jaime interrupted and she fell silent. "You..." Hells, he thought the point of a soul bond was that he wouldn't have to give voice to his feelings. Didn't she already know that her frustrating, unwavering belief in honour and integrity made her a truer knight to him than any man who would bandy about the title nowadays?   
  
He both felt and heard the soft catch of her breath, her quickening heartbeat in his own chest.  
  
" _Oh_..." Was all she said, pleasure, pride and embarrassment all radiating from her. Jaime felt his skin flush as hers did. He couldn't help but snort; ever the eloquent one, his wench, not that he was faring much better in this moment. He was surprised when she spoke up again, " _Then... don't give up, Jaime. Don't let this stop you from being... better."_   
  
He swallowed around the lump in his throat; he had the absurd wish to make her proud of him.   
  
"I'm... trying."   
  
He felt calmer, more in control and less willing to let every thought that passed through his head, every fleeting feeling, spill through the bond to her. Perhaps she sensed him feeling less forthcoming, for in his mind's eye she nodded, a little more stoically and like her old self again.   
  
Before the moment of clarity faded, Brienne's voice and image too, she murmured, " __I am sorry, Jaime. Truly. "   
  
It was only when she was gone - or rather, retreated back to the edges of his consciousness - that Jaime realised neither of them had explicitly acknowledged what was happening between them aloud. They hadn't even expressed disbelief at the impossibility of seeing each other, talking as though they stood mere inches away rather than the vast distance that separated them.   
  
Jaime was perhaps too grateful to question it, but he wanted to know exactly how Brienne felt about being bonded to the Kingslayer.   
  
He needed to find out more.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope that wasn't too confusing. More to come. Kudos and comments are my lifeforce.


End file.
